


So Still

by Notasmuch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Obedience, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a simple BDSM PWP based on <a href="http://badwid.tumblr.com/post/76120114031/badwid-fuckin-bye">two AMAZING GIFS</a> that made my brain explode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Still

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed and not Britpicked. If you see mistakes please let me know, doesn't matter how many :)

The bed was warm and comfortable and Harry was just about to fall asleep when Zayn came into the room. He didn't move straight away but when Zayn's hand touched his neck, Harry's whole body turned automatically, leaning in, shifting closer. The wave of want fell over him slowly, making his breath pause and goosebumps break out over his arms. 

“Hey, love.” Zayn's voice was as soft as the covers Harry was wrapped up in and felt even better on his skin.

“You're back.” 

Zayn murmured a reply but it was lost on Harry's lips, a kiss that started slowly, supported by Zayn's fingers tender on Harry's nape, softly petting while his tongue opened Harry's lips and yes, that was perfection. Harry relaxed into both touches. 

Zayn pushed the covers off him and nudged him to lie on his back. Harry was naked, of course, he loved it. He loved the freedom, the air on his skin, but he loved even more the way Zayn looked at him, like he couldn't get enough, like Harry made him ache just by existing. 

Harry folded his arms over his head and breathed slowly, until his body relaxed into the sheets, stopped straining towards Zayn. Sometimes, when he was trying so hard, Harry wanted to call him his Master, wanted to say “Sir” instead of Zayn, but most of the time it felt strange on his tongue so they skipped it. Still, Zayn wouldn't mind if he did, would understand it for the begging it was. So he did. “Sir,” he breathed, barely audible, but so right. 

Zayn's eyes snapped up from Harry's hips and pinned him to the bed more than any physical strenght could have. He crawled over Harry in a single fluid move and his clothes rubbed against Harry's skin, making him moan quietly, stretch a little to feel it as much as possible.  
He was needy, he knew it. It had been a busy few days and they didn't really have time to play and he had been waiting for this, maybe more desperately than he realized. 

Zayn spread Harry's legs with his own, made a place for himself and kissed Harry again, deeper this time, stronger. Harry allowed himself small licks at Zayn's tongue, slight shifts to feel the weight on his chest, the hard jeans on his dick. Zayn never made him stop those because he loved Harry needy, loved him begging and crying for anything Zayn would give him. And Zayn gave him everything. 

Harry whined when Zayn's lips slid from his but he just tilted his head up and waited. Difference between Zayn's lips and stubble drove Harry insane, made him want to grab Zayn and rub against him like a needy kitten but he just moaned louder instead and bared more of his neck, knowing he would get what he needed eventually. 

Every move Zayn made told Harry how loved and wanted he was. Zayn never closed his eyes when Harry was naked before him. He made love to Harry's body slowly and confidently, with kisses and bites and scratches over his arms, his nipples, below his ribs and over his hips, and Harry just allowed himself sounds and smallest of movements, trying to be as good for Zayn as possible, to be a still canvas for the red lines and crimson bruises Zayn was leaving over him. 

When he spread Harry's thighs wider, brushed his aching dick without real intent, Harry shuddered and pressed his hands into fists, just another “Sir,” slipping out with 'thank you' and 'please' hidden in it.  
Sharp teeth left angry bites down his thigh and spikey hair tickled his balls for a long minute while he did he best to focus on his breathing and feel the pain deep inside, where it felt warm and safe, more than on his skin, where it made him restless. 

“You're being so good, sweetheart,” Zayn said and Harry looked down to see him smile proudly and it broke the breath Harry had taken and all he could do was surrender. His head fell back and his eyes closed; staying still was no longer a struggle, it was the most natural thing ever, being whatever Zayn needed. 

And once he started, Zayn kept going. His hands were sliding up and down Harry's legs, nails determined against soft skin, but his words kept pouring out love and pleasure over Harry. Harry never felt more beautiful than when Zayn called him good and strong. He never felt as loved as when Zayn called him sweetheart, love, darling. 

A small hit of reality came when Harry felt Zayn's stubble at the root of his dick, when his sensitive skin prickled as Zayn spoke “You are so,” licked a stripe up his red, swollen cock, “beautifully,” nuzzled at the head, “mine,” and took him down to his throat. 

“Zayn!” Harry sobbed and didn't move, took a deep breath, didn't come, let the breath out slowly and felt Zayn slide off his cock and climb over him again, still fully clothed. Harry's skin was tender now and he felt so small under Zayn, so owned and not his own. The way Zayn looked at him, possessive and proud told him Zayn understood. 

He wanted to say it anyway, but he couldn't find the words. It didn't matter, because Zayn cupped his face and whispered to him “You are, aren't you. All mine,” Zayn looked down his body and then into his eyes, “in every way.” Harry just nodded. Yes, always yes. 

“You're not gonna come until I'm done with you. You're not gonna move until I tell you to. You will look at me and be good and let me love you.” 

“Yes. Yes.” Harry managed a whisper and he didn't know what was coming but Zayn taking his clothes off gave him time to find himself a bit. It didn't last long because Zayn sat astride Harry and started preparing himself and then Harry knew what was next and he almost came when Zayn slid a lubed finger into himself, his face giving the moment away. 

“I don't know if I can,” Harry admitted. 

Without removing his finger, Zayn leaned in and kissed him. “You can, I know you can.” He looked straight at Harry as he prepared himself but stood on his knees a bit, so as not to touch him, giving him more time to step away from the edge. 

He still let out a broken whine when Zayn started sliding down his dick slowly, pausing and clenching around him until Harry was all the way in and wanting to scream Zayn's name until his throat hurt. He didn't though. He never looked away and didn't move to fuck like his body wanted him to. They've been together for a long time, he had practice, he knew how to release the need through his fingers, toes and breathing, but it still curled up in his belly and balls, like he was preparing for a punch, and he couldn't help the sounds that came out of his mouth at a result. It was a good thing that Zayn loved those. 

Everything was too much and not enough at the same time. Zayn worked his dick with experience, fucking himself the way he wanted to, his speed, his depth, his angle. Harry would feel like a tool for his pleasure except Zayn's hands and eyes never stopped caressing his body and he kept talking, constantly. Not small, intimate whispers, but firm proclamations of how good and amazing Harry was, how well he was doing, hold on just bit longer, just like this, perfect. 

When Zayn came Harry couldn't see him. The clench around his dick and the warm come spilling on his skin were too much. He didn't think he closed his eyes but he couldn't see a thing. He was pretty sure he was begging though. 

He felt Zayn lean forward and slip his come covered fingers into Harry's mouth, so he licked them obediently and Zayn praised him more but he couldn't understand the words, just how good they made him feel.

He was lifted into Zayn's arms, his head cradled, still hard and throbbing inside Zayn and the only thing he heard was Zayn's order, “I love you, come for me.” 

Harry fell apart. He came, arching into the body that held him, his hips moving out of control; he may have screamed, may have grabbed Zayn's hair but he wasn't sure of anything except the tremors that took him over as he came, finally. 

He felt Zayn move off him, touch his dick gently like a thank you and he fell asleep between a giggle and a yawn.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for locking this, but I don't want any of the boys ever to be linked to any of my works and I don't trust people not to do it.


End file.
